


Bad Moon Rising

by ActualBlanketGremlin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: No shade to Tim but he has to be an asshole in this for the plot to work, Science Man Brian May, Witch!Freddie, Witch!Roger, witchcraft!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBlanketGremlin/pseuds/ActualBlanketGremlin
Summary: Done for the Dork Lovers Discord Halloween thing!AU where Brian, Tim, and John were the members of Smile.Freddie and Roger are professional witches spending the night telling fortunes in the local pub when Brian comes up to them with a problem. His bandmate Tim has been acting possessive and creepy ever since Brian realized he cares for John a little more than just being friends. Roger can help him eliminate the problem. All he has to do is ask......





	1. Looks Like We're In For Nasty Weather

It was a dark and stormy night. These nights always were.

"Fuck! Rodger, have you seen my deck?"

Freddie Bulsara, 23, table tennis champion, part-time bathroom vocalist, and full-time witch called out to his flatmate. He was tearing through his room, looking for his tarot cards.

Roger Taylor (20, lead drummer on the steering wheel of his car, and occasional seller of clothes when there was a lull in people wanting their future read with Ogham runes) came to help look with his usual boisterousness. "Which one? The Rider-Waite or the playing cards? Wait, don't we have to be at the pub in half an hour?"

"The ones Mum gave me before we left Zanzibar. And we can still make it, we'll just have to hurry." It only took 20 minutes to get to the Crown and Anchor, which left five to set up and five to find his bloody cards. Rodger looked under the bed while Freddie glanced over the small altar and checked in his desk drawers, before groaning and leaning back.

"Nothing. Could you, darling?"

Rodger came up from the bed with dust in his hair and rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt.

The deck, which had been handed down to Freddie from his mother and from her mother before, had a very distinctive energy to it. It tired Rodger out to search in this way, but they really didn't have the time to tear up the whole apartment. He shuddered as he felt the power surge through his body, prompting him to stand up in his semi-trance and go out to their sitting room. The cards were there, under some of Freddie's drawings on the coffee table. As soon as he touched the softly embroidered bag he snapped out of the trance and noticed Freddie giggling by the door.

"What?"

"You make the strangest faces when you go under, darling. Just like you've been fucked silly, only more glazed over."

Freddie never did have much in the way of subtlety.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm heading out, you coming with me? Or are you going to shove the broom up your ass and--"

"I'm coming, darling! Just let me put on my shoes." 

* * *

The Crown and Anchor was a fairly standard English pub. Rather dimly lit and cozy, albeit with cutouts of pumpkins with faces and bats on the walls, they had hired Freddie and Roger to tell fortunes and generally buy pints and be mysterious in a corner for Halloween. It was busy as they came in (five minutes before 10:00, Freddie noted smugly), but it was a Friday night. The bartender nodded them towards a back booth and set up Freddie's sign to drum up business.

It wasn't long before their first customers wandered over, a giggly young woman followed closely by her also intoxicated boyfriend who wanted to know whether their love would last forever. Nothing lasted forever, but Freddie liked getting paid more, so he told them that The Tower actually represented a Rapunzel-style true love and smiled coyly as the young woman preened in light of the revelation. They happily paid and went on their way, leaving the booth clear for a new customer.

A couple hours (and drinks) in, a man sidled up to them, looking rather nervous. He was strikingly beautiful, with shoulder-length curly brown hair and soft eyes that kept darting towards the bathrooms in a way that made Roger want to wrap him up in a blanket and give him a cup of tea and protect him from the world.

"Tell your fortune, lovie?" Freddie asked, batting his eyelashes at the man. "There's no need to be scared, are you alright?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I'm not really familiar with all of… this. But I've tried most other things, and nothing's worked, so what's the harm, right?"

Good gods, his voice was soft too. The urge to grab the nearest duvet was getting stronger.

"What seems to be the matter?" Roger asked, pushing out the chair nearest to the man with his foot and inwardly laughing a little when he jumped.

"It's my… friend. Tim. He sings in our band, Smile. But lately, he's gotten kind of weird. He doesn't like our bassist, he never has, but he was the best to audition and--I'm rambling. Sorry. It's just, Tim won't leave him alone now. I think he's jealous that I like John better than him. Does that make sense?"

It did. Roger nodded, glancing over at Freddie as if to say "I'll handle this one."

"I understand the situation, but what exactly do you want us to do about it? Would you like one of us to curse him? Hex his voice? Make him ill? Make him scared of you so you can get him to quit the band? You'll have to be quite specific, and I'll need your name as well." Names have power and Roger would have been understanding if the man backed out at his request, even though he just wanted to know what to call him.

"Brian May. I don't want to hurt him, not seriously anyway, just get him to back off a bit. Having him quit Smile would be easier, but there aren't successful two-man bands, and I don't know whether John would be alright with it. We don't make band decisions when we aren't in the same room together."

It was troubling how quickly Brian gave up his full name. Part of Roger thought that he just didn't know any better, but that was one of the more well-known rules--especially in a country as full of faerie lore as England was. Maybe it wasn't real after all and he was lying. It took guts, lying to a witch point blank, but this "Brian" seemed quite good at it.

"What if you could get a new singer? We could help with that too, hell, I'd throw that in for free. Would you want to hurt him then? He's obviously causing you distress, why not return the favor say… tenfold?" Roger asked to tempt Brian. If he seemed eager to cause Tim harm with that obstacle out of the way, he'd refuse to work with the man.

Brian blanched and shook his head. "I don't want to hurt him. I couldn't have that on my conscience. I just want him to leave us alone. Maybe quit the band too, if you were serious about finding a new singer. But nothing too… Extreme. You know?"

Roger's mysterious smile turned into a full-blown grin. "That, I do." He held out his hand to shake. "You've got yourself a deal. Give me…" here, he checked his datebook for the moon phases, "Two weeks and your contact information and I'll take care of your problem personally. He won't be physically hurt, but expect him to be jumpy until he quits."

He scrawled "R.T." and his phone number on the bottom of a bar napkin and slid it across the table.

Brian took it.

"That's my information, I'll need to know more before I can start. This Tim's full name, for one. And your John's. Not so I can target him, so he won't get caught in the crossfire. How often your band practices, and where. Whether you perform anywhere live. What sort of materials you might have available for a taglock, if necessary, and any personal correspondences that might help." Roger said, flipping another napkin over, and making a list as he went. Brian nodded. He had the sort of look of someone whose mind was going very quickly as he tried to process everything.

Freddie nudged Roger's elbow and nodded towards a man who had just come out of the bathroom and who was making a beeline for their table.

"You don't have to tell me now, you've got my phone number. Give it some thought. Sleep on it and call me in the morning." He deftly turned the napkin back over so his phone number was showing again as the other man reached the table.

"Maybe give me a call anyway. I wouldn't say no and you seem like you need another friend."

"Hey, what's all this, Brian?"

The third man, presumably Tim, looked from Brian to Roger, to the napkin with the phone number between them. Roger wasn't an empath, but even he could feel the jealousy and possessiveness the man had over the brunette. Brian shot Roger and Freddie a look of panic and Freddie smiled warmly.

"Why, Brian here was just telling us about that fantastic band he's in, weren't you, darling?"

Tim bristled at the use of "darling", but he also preened at the compliment. It wasn't a good look.

"We should be going, we've got practice in the morning. Well, it was nice meeting you guys." Brian said quickly, pocketing the napkin before Tim could get a good look at it and the two headed for the door.

Roger waved after them. Tim seemed like a real prick. This was going to be fun.


	2. I See Trouble On The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger does some witching and the boys try to practice. Does this mean they have fans now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, everyone!
> 
> Done for the November prompt "Say something"
> 
> As a side note on Roger's ritual in this, it's a modified one I've done a couple times over the years to cause a specific distress in the target. It should be noted I'm Norse Pagan and Roger would most likely follow a more traditionally Cornish practice, but I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I'm not from anywhere close to Cornwall and I figured if I was gonna say Roger's a witch anyway, I could fudge the origins of the spells he's going to do. They'll all be based on various Norse rituals. Anyhoo, enjoy the chapter!

Kensington

5:00 PM

Brian called with the information at around lunchtime, and Roger had started gathering his materials immediately. He had planned three phases over the next two weeks (two main events and a Finale, if he was feeling particularly dramatic), and only the last had to be done at a particular time. This should be fairly simple, start off slow.

Roger wrote Tim's name on a square of brown paper bag in the kitchen (his grandmother would probably roll in her grave if she saw him doing magic in front of a range instead of a traditional hearth, but it was the 20th century! It hadn't affected the success of his charms, anyway, which was what he cared about) and drew a large eye over the name with an oil blend. He ground up several varieties of peppercorns Freddie had brought over from his parents' house, attacking the things with a bit of pent-up aggression. Taking the fact that he only had to stop and sneeze once as a good sign, he poured the contents onto the paper so it covered the name and folded it to form a small envelope.

If Tim wanted to act like he had any right to constantly watch over Brian, he'd get a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

Imperial College

Practice Room B

6:30 PM

Tim had arrived to practice late that day, citing a broken watch and traffic. No matter, they were all there now. Tim set up and they started going through their set. Brian was a bit on edge, waiting for Roger to do whatever he was going to do. He knew the set inside out and backwards, and his hands flew over the fretboard with a practiced ease, but his mind was going mile-a-minute monitoring Tim's every movement. Halfway through Doin' Alright, Tim looked over at the window in the door and froze.

"You alright, Tim?" John asked, shooting a glance over at Brian. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tim said nothing. He kept staring at the window in the door.

"Tim? Say something. What're you looking at? There's nothing out there." Brian said, taking two steps forward to put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Whatever it was had him spooked.

As Brian turned Tim away from the door, he visibly relaxed, though he was still shaking like a leaf. "Sorry, I… I thought I saw something. Outside. It's nothing, though. I'm sure I just imagined it or something."

They broke for tea and split a packet of digestives, which helped with the shaking; though Tim kept glancing at the windows. Brian couldn't see anything, _but_, his mind supplied, _the curse wasn't directed at you in the first place_.

"What was it?" he asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

Tim grimaced. "You'll laugh at me."

"I won't laugh, and neither will John. Won't you?"

"You seem pretty shaken up. This stays between us, Tim. If there's something we can do…?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't think so. It's… It looks like a dead man and he's looking in the window and he's got red eyes and they're staring at me." He seemed defensive about it, looking at the others like he expected them to phone the nearest psych ward.

"It's getting late, don't you think? Maybe the stress of midterms are getting to you" John said kindly. It was only 9:00, but the look on his face told Brian they'd be having a long talk after this. "A lie-down would do all of us good. After all, we can't use the practice rooms if we all fail out of our classes."

It didn’t take long for the three of them get to their respective apartments. Tim was closest to the college, so John and Brian made sure he made it inside before they went back to Brian’s. There was a lot to talk about.


	3. I Hear The Voice Of Rage And Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and John have a talk. Tim has a drink. Freddie and Roger have fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update, everyone! It's been a hectic few days, but on the plus side, I may have a new job soon! That should grease the wheels a bit and make for more frequent updates. Also, I have a Spotify playlist for this! Have fun! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4nzybUoFgTBUtmaYmH4cg6

Brian's Flat, 9:30 PM.

"What did you do? You couldn't stop looking at Tim all practice. Is there anything… going on between you two?"

John Deacon was nothing if not to the point. He didn't think Brian liked Tim, but he tried not to think about that as a general rule. It made his stomach flip-flop and he wasn't sure whether he liked that. It wasn't that he liked his bandmate like _that_, he just didn't like how Tim would sometimes strut between them during shows and practices like a bloody peacock and smirk like the cat that got the cream whenever Brian even took a step closer to him than to John and--okay, maybe John has some feelings he needs to think through, but that seems fairly solidly like a job for himself at some nebulous later date. John of the present had his mind very full indeed right now, with thoughts of an amplifier with a delay for Brian and new song ideas on top of his usual workload. 

Brian grimaced (at least he didn't have a smile on his face when he thought about Tim). "You saw that, did you?" he asked, fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. It was a lovely soft one with bell sleeves that swung fantastically when he strummed the Red Special.

John nodded. "It was pretty hard to miss. But you didn't answer my question."

"Of course I don't like him! Not like that!" Little did John know, Brian was dying to say "It's you that I like!", but now wasn't the time for that.

"I just thought he seemed a little off earlier, and well. You know. It would be bad if he got sick."

John sighed shortly. "And what else? I can tell when you're not being fully truthful with me, we've known each other for too long not to." He crossed his arms, more annoyed than anything. "Look, whatever it is, I probably won't care, but I don't like having secrets from each other." 

Brian sighed. Might as well get this over with. "I asked a witch to get Tim to stop being a prick and I wasn't sure when it was going to kick in."

John glared at Brian. "Don't lie to me! What did you do?" This wasn't good. If Brian was lying about this, what else was he lying about? Did he actually like Tim after all?

Brian glared back at him. "I'm not lying! I went to the Crown and Anchor last night and there were these two guys telling fortunes. We got to talking and one of them said he could help Tim stop being such an ass to you all the time. Don't tell me you haven't noticed, he keeps trying to crowd you out. He told me he was learning bass, and I don't want to lose you." At this, Brian took out the napkin from his pocket to show John. "Look, here. The one I talked to, R.T., he gave me this. It's what he said he needed to do it."

John took the list, still suspicious. "I don't want to lose you either, but witchcraft? Really? I didn't think you went in for this nonsense. What's this, "full names, where the band practices, what types of trees are on campus, and what spices you associate with fear"? You realize this sounds crazy, right?"

Brian flushed with embarrassment. "I know. And I don't, not really. Or, I didn't. Science is my life, you know this. I've spent the past five years up to my eyeballs in physics, I like to think I know how the universe works. But I'm sick of Tim thinking he can act like he does, and I've tried telling him to stop, but that doesn't work, so I figured I'd give this a try. I study the stars, maybe what R.T. calls magic is like them. Just because we don't completely know how it works doesn't mean it doesn't. And after today... I think it works."

Brian's answer was so logical and thought out, he had obviously thought this through, it almost scared John more. "What did you ask him to do?" he asked in little more than a whisper. 

"Just to get Tim to stop being so possessive. And to help us get a new singer if he quit. It's going to be okay, Deaky. I'm not going to let him get rid of you." He was trying to be reassuring, but it was just making things worse. 

"It's not me I'm worried about. What exactly is he doing to Tim?"

* * *

Tim's Flat, 8:30 PM

He couldn't sleep. Whenever Tim looked, the Figure was there, just barely out of sight, but never out of mind. It was out the window (of his top floor flat?), in his bathroom mirror, in the reflection from his spoon when he tried to eat soup for dinner. He decided to make it an early night, but that didn't work out either. Tim could see Its reflection in the surface of his record player. Maybe alcohol would help. Somehow, there wasn't any in the flat, so there was nothing for it but to go down to the pub. It wasn't too late yet, and even if Tim managed to doze off, he could probably make it before Last Call. 

Tim ended up at the Crown and Anchor again, nursing something called a Pink Squirrel. It was ridiculous, but thanks to the low lighting of the bar and the high alcohol content, he couldn't really bring himself to care. He hadn't even had to pay for it, it had been sent over by someone named Regina after he had finished his usual beer. Regina hadn't shown up to talk to him yet, but Tim wasn't worried. Tonight was Open Mic Night, and while none of the acts could stand up against Smile, a few were decent. There was a string of female guitarists that seemed to be trying to be the next Janis Joplin or trying to impress possible boyfriends in the audience and then a couple male singers who weren't much better. The backing duo was excellent, a pair of women on an old upright piano and drum kit. Tim hadn't arrived early enough to know who they were, but they definitely had potential. They were clearly wasted on the acts tonight. 

The latest act finished and he clapped half-heartedly with the rest of the pub, looking more and more at the backup performers. There was something familiar about them that he couldn't quite place... Maybe they had gone to a Smile concert. That was probably it. The pale blonde grinned at the tanned brunette as the latter moved away from her piano. 

"Let's have another hand for our fabulous performers! They really were quite good, wouldn't you say? Now, our next act is excellent, just a fantastic singer, world class really. Please give a warm welcome to...... Miss Melina Mercury!" The pianist moved to center stage and spun around in a circle, making her low-cut black satin-and-sequin dress flow around her like water as she took a low bow.

"That's me, for all you lovies who came in late. Now, if you wouldn't mind starting us off Regina darling, we'll get this show on the road!"

The drummer, Regina (was that the Regina that had sent his drink?) twirled one of her drumsticks and started playing a loose, splashy striptease beat to a loop of pre-recorded brass horns Melina was controlling by some kind of electronic setup.

_"The minute you walked in the joint! I could see you were a man of distinction, a real big spender!"_ Melina's low voice was cut through the pub like a foghorn. She was a sultry powerhouse, taking the microphone off the stand and shimmying around the stage. Tim couldn't look away, and he wasn't the only one. Melina tossed her long black hair over one shoulder and pointed into the crowd.

_"Good looking! So refined! Say, wouldn't you like to know what's going on in my mind?"_ Yes, Tim did. She twirled the hand that was pointing, silver bangles accentuating her slender arms, until she was pointing at him. 

_"So let me get right to the point!"_ God help him, Melina sashayed off of the stage, leading with her hips, trailing the microphone cord as she came closer to Tim's table.

_"I don't pop my cork for everyone I see!"_ She was right there, blatantly gyrating with one leg propped up on the other chair at his table, and he felt as though his soul was going to leave his body right then and there.

_"Hey big spender!"_ When did Melina get on top of his table? A faint part of the back of Tim's mind protested that this was a Health & Safety nightmare come true, but he was enjoying the view too much to care much about that. She was leaning down now, bending so they were face-to-face. Tim found that he couldn't breathe.

_"Spend a little time with me!"_ He'd spend as much time with her as she wanted. If Melina said jump, he'd ask how high. He'd give her the moon and all the stars in the sky if she asked for them. Instead, she snapped back up to her full height, moving deftly onto the next table over. Patrons quickly scrambled to grab their drinks, in the hope that she'd move onto theirs. And move she did, jumping from table to table like it was nothing. She had the whole place spellbound, and nobody could stop her if they tried. Melina made her way back, moving from table to stage in one fluid movement. The drummer continued her thunderous heartbeat rhythm, providing an almost hypnotic beat for Melina to dance to. She wasn't even singing now, but nobody seemed to care. Tim wanted to watch her dance forever. 

She slunk her way over to the drum kit and bent backwards over the tom-toms. In that moment, Regina turned into the figure from Tim's newfound hallucinations, arms and fingers lengthening, hair falling out in thick clumps, and face turning slack-jawed and yawning. Time seemed to stop as it got up, ignoring the vulnerable woman in front of it and instead moving closer to him. Every step dragged across the ground and it reached out towards him. Tim didn't know and didn't care what it was going to do to him, he just didn't want it anywhere near him. It was getting closer and closer, and he couldn't help himself. Tim screamed, falling backwards off his chair and knocking over his drink. The pink liquid splashed down his front, knocking the ice and garnish--some kind of small brown thing that he hadn't bothered to look at before--onto the floor. Something about the garnish caught his eye, and he took it into his hand. He wasn't the only one screaming, the little _thing_ he had assumed was a garnish for his drink was screaming too, it was some kind of root carved into the form of a tiny person, and the sheer volume would have knocked him over if he hadn't already been on the floor.

Time started again and with it came a great wall of sound from the crowd around him. They were cheering and whistling, on their feet as they clapped, drowning out the little carved thing. Tim was helped up by someone who hadn't seemed to notice that anything was wrong and he ran for the door.

Going to the pub had been a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Freddie Mercury did actually dance on tables when he was at Ealing Art College.   
The carved "garnish" in Tim's drink was a mandrake root, traditionally used for various things in English witchcraft, but also a powerful hallucinogen "to experience bacchanalian carousal", which I thought was fitting.   
Why are they in drag? Mostly because "why not", but also because they're going to need to get a bit closer for the next stage of the process and they don't want to be recognized too early in the game.  
Also, the five chapters is a goal for myself, but I'm realizing it may need to be longer. Just a heads up.


End file.
